Love Zone
by anek
Summary: There is only so much unresolved sexual tension one can endure... and Fuji enjoys reminding Tezuka of that fact... Tezuka x Fuji YAOI complete
1. His Desire

Synopsis: There is only so much unresolved sexual tension one can endure... and it looks like Fuji would just have to take matters into his own hands... YAOI  
  
A/n: wai, another Tezuka x Fuji fic, my favorite PoT couple of course^^  
  
Disclaimer: don't own PoT.  


* * *

**Love Zone **  
By: anek  
  
Chapter 1: His Desire  
  
  
  
The teacher's steady voice continued to recite a passage from a historical novel that they were analyzing, but Fuji didn't mind not listening... after all, he had memorized the passage long before everyone else in the class. But more importantly, he had just discovered something far more inspiring.  
  
Fuji leaned closer to the boy sitting primly on the seat in front of him, close enough so that his nose teasingly hovered over the other boy's nape, his breathing lightly making the short tresses of dark hair sway.  
  
"Ne, Tezuka..." he began, deliberately dragging his voice making it sound almost like a soft velvety whisper.  
  
He couldn't see Tezuka's face, but Fuji could very well imagine his captain's stern expression frowning in disapproval.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
Fuji smiled. Tezuka was always cold, but Fuji had been one of the few whom the stoic captain of Seigaku occasionally showed a rare gentler side. But today, Tezuka was cold... especially to him.  
  
And Fuji had every idea why.  
  
He leaned farther forward, his chin almost resting on one of Tezuka's broad shoulders. Fuji almost chuckled when Tezuka stiffened.  
  
"Can I borrow your notes later, Tezuka?"  
  
Fuji could almost imagine Tezuka gritting his teeth in annoyance.  
  
"Why don't you take your own notes?" Tezuka snapped.  
  
Fuji lightly cocked his head to the side, the soft strands of his hair lightly brushing on the rim of Tezuka's glasses. Tezuka immediately leaned farther away, but the gesture only seemed to give Fuji greater access to the sensitive flesh on his neck.  
  
"But your head is blocking the way, Tezuka. I can't see what's written on the board."  
  
Fuji's smile didn't falter when Tezuka gave him an almost nervous glance, followed by a quick look around the classroom as if reminding him of where they were.  
  
But Fuji knew all too well there was nothing to worry about. They sat at the farthest corner of the room and everyone else seemed caught up with the passage the teacher was reading. And after all, he was clever and calculating... he would never let such trifle matters interfere with what he wanted... and what he wanted right then was the only person that could make his skin burn hotter than glowing coals.  
  
"Then you should have said so earlier," Tezuka hissed between gritted teeth, shifting his head farther to the side.  
  
"Not that way, Tezuka. I still can't see the blackboard."  
  
Tezuka gave an almost exasperated sigh. He knew Fuji... Fuji and his games. If he wasn't careful, he'd end up dancing in Fuji's palms like most of Fuji's tennis opponents usually ended up doing.  
  
He leaned farther to the right, even giving his chair a light tug that made the wooden seat let out a soft creak, earning a few curious glances. But one glare from him sent the curious eyes cowering away... such was the reputation of the strict captain of Seigaku.  
  
"It never fails to amaze me how you can scare people with your eyes..."  
  
Tezuka stiffened. Fuji had leaned even closer, close enough so that Tezuka could catch a faint whiff of Fuji's breath, a strange mix of vanilla and mint.  
  
The pen Tezuka held on his left hand threatened to snapped when he unconsciously clenched his fists. Fuji had the smile of an innocent angel... but in truth, the beautiful boy was as cruel and unrelenting as an enchanted imp.  
  
"We're in class Fuji. Either shut up or listen," he snapped, narrowing his eyes in a threatening glare that was known to make boys pale in fear, and girls swoon in awe... but he knew it wouldn't work on Fuji... it never did.  
  
"But it's your fault, Tezuka. I can't see--"  
  
"You don't need to see what's written on the board," Tezuka cut off the rest of Fuji's words. Which was true, for Fuji knew the classics almost as much as he knew tennis.  
  
"But I really want to see. Can you move your head to the side just a bit?"  
  
Tezuka was almost lost in the soft lilt of Fuji's voice, almost like a tender singsong lulling him to sleep. As if driven by an unseen force, his body started sliding back to where he was before... closer to Fuji... closer to Fuji's warmth...  
  
The teacher's high-pitched voice suddenly boomed to call on one of the students to read a particular passage, pulling Tezuka from the dangerous trance Fuji had so expertly woven for him.  
  
Fuji cleared his throat, but Tezuka knew it was to cover a knowing chuckle. He glared again. Against Fuji, it would seem that it was all he could do.  
  
"I did move!" he snapped, almost childishly. He had wondered countless times before why only Fuji could make him behave so shamefully, and each time he tried to reason it out, the answer simply eluded him.  
  
His only consolation at the moment was that Fuji had gone back to sitting properly on his seat again. Tezuka's breathing began to resume its normal pace.  
  
Or so he thought until long graceful fingers teasingly trailed along the sensitive skin on his nape.  
  
"Stop that Fuji," he protested almost half-heartedly, torn between irritation and a sudden unfamiliar urge to lean back and let out a satisfied purr. The thought of him, the well-respected captain of Seigaku, purring like a satisfied kitten in the middle of the class no less, was so horrifying that it brought back the control he needed.  
  
He had decided long before that Fuji was a hazard to his sanity.  
  
A half growl caught on his throat when Fuji's fingers moved to slowly rake the soft strands of his hair, one delicate thumb enticingly hovering over one earlobe.  
  
The loud thud told Tezuka the book he once held on his hands had gone falling to the floor. The teacher stopped in mid-sentence.  
  
"Is something wrong, Tezuka-kun?" the teacher asked politely.  
  
Yes, even the teachers respected him... for he was Tezuka Kunimitsu after all. If only they knew the shameful predicament he was going through.  
  
"Sumimasen, sensei. I need to go to the washroom," he stated in a firm voice that had people usually mistaking him for someone far older, not a Junior High School senior.  
  
"Of course, of course, Tezuka-kun, take your time," his sensei answered almost too eagerly. At other times, Tezuka would usually hide a derisive snort, disgusted at how teachers liked to act all goody-goody at students like him while mistreating others.  
  
But Tezuka didn't have time to ponder such trifle thoughts right then... for the object of his misery sat comfortably on his seat, long legs crossed, one swaying gracefully to and fro... an innocent smile tugging on full, rosy lower lip.  
  
He gave Fuji one more glare before bending to pick the book he had dropped and stalking out of the classroom.  
  
But Tezuka should have known...  
  
"Sensei, I need to go to the washroom too," Fuji declared, voice coated with honey, face always radiant with a smile... and no one could ever sense the clever and calculating strategist that hid within that beautiful facade.  
  
But he was Tezuka Kunimitsu... the calm and always collected captain of Seigaku... although if he didn't have a reputation to uphold, Tezuka would have probably ran out of the room for dear life.  
  
  
  
  
Tezuka walked briskly down the deserted hallway. He was fuming... fortunately, no one took notice of him, save for the schoolgirls who couldn't help but glance his way as he passed the wide open classroom doors along the hall. Everyone was still in the middle of class, after all, it was only 10 in the morning, yet he couldn't believe all his senses were reeling in heightened awareness... and the one responsible for it was trailing behind him with unconcerned footsteps, probably whistling to himself.  
  
He stopped where the hall branched to the east wing of the building, and to where the nearest washroom was located, debating which way he would take. In the end, he growled in frustration. Fuji would find him no matter how far he went.  
  
He turned right after all, and entered the boy's washroom, which, to his relief was deserted as well.  
  
Tezuka took a look at himself in the full-length mirror. It had always baffled him why girls found him so attractive, yet he must admit; perhaps he really did fall into the good-looking category although he never really thought much of such matters. A poker face that sported narrow eyes glinting behind elegant spectacles, a slightly pointed chin, lips usually pursed into a thin line... yes, perhaps he really did stand out of the usual crowd. And perhaps he took pleasure in the fact that people feared him... not because of ego or anything, but because he never really did appreciate more attention than he needed. If people felt aloof towards him, then fine, solitude was something he treasured... but that was until he met the beautiful boy whom was to turn his world upside down and blow it all out of place.  
  
Fuji had greeted him with an unfaltering smile the first time they met, not a trace of even the slightest apprehension people usually felt around him. Fuji had talked to him without reservation, patted his shoulder like they were already long time friends, and called his name without hesitation. Fuji was... different. He knew it the first time he saw that angelic smile. More different from even Oishi, the one he considered as his closest friend.  
  
Their acquaintance since then had taken various turns. They had been rivals, comrades, teammates... friends. The first time he saw Fuji play tennis, the always-smiling tennis tensai had ignited the competitive blood that burned within him. He would be a hypocrite if he denied ever being fearful of Fuji's talent, more so when no one ever knew Fuji's full strength. It was a known fact that Fuji's skill in tennis was right below his... but Fuji really used his full-strength, Tezuka sometimes wondered just where would they stand against each other.  
  
Tezuka had always been popular, but Fuji rivaled him in that aspect as well. But Fuji wasn't only popular with girls like he was... but to boys as well. Fuji had both the looks and the charm that were a magnet to both sexes. There had been a few males in the school who had showed unhidden affections for the famed tensai... and that fact never really settled well on Tezuka. He didn't know the reason why... at least not until recently.  
  
The washroom door squeaked as the object of his thoughts came striding in. He had been expecting Fuji to follow him, yet the sight of Fuji almost had him holding his breath. The feel of Fuji's lithe fingertips was still fresh on his skin, Fuji's scent still lingering on his nose.  
  
Tezuka walked over to the sink, turning on the faucet and fetching a handful of cold water to splash on his face, deliberately keeping himself from glancing on the mirror for he knew he would meet Fuji's eyes if he did so... and he never wanted to meet Fuji's eyes.  
  
"Stop it, Fuji. We've talked about this already," Tezuka stated calmly after drying his wet face with a paper towel and replacing his spectacles.  
  
Fuji was smiling like he always did...  
  
"You started this game Tezuka... I'm merely carrying it out," Fuji answered slowly, pressing his body to the stunned taller boy.  
  
Tezuka instinctively took a step back until his lower back hit the cold sink. Fuji kept moving forward so that Tezuka was forced to lean back, their lower bodies pressed against each other, the warmth almost blinding them both.  
  
Fuji lifted one dainty finger to trace on Tezuka's collarbone.  
  
"You were the one who taught me the pleasure the flesh can offer, Tezuka... denying it would just be plain cruel, don't you think?"  
  
Tezuka looked away, his hands tightly gripping the edge of the sink until his knuckles almost turned white.  
  
"Better forget it, Fuji. We don't have a future together. We've already talked about this," Tezuka stated in almost a whisper.  
  
To his surprise, Fuji slowly moved away. Tezuka almost reached out... the need for Fuji's warmth was almost making his body move in it's own accord. But Tezuka stopped himself in time.  
  
"I see..." Fuji continued, letting out a strange sound that sounded almost like hollow laughter.  
  
"If you can't give me what I want... then I guess I'll just have to look elsewhere," Fuji added before turning on his heels.  
  
Tezuka's eyes darkened. He fiercely grabbed Fuji's shoulder, forcing a gasp of pain from the smaller boy.  
  
"What did you just say?!" Tezuka demanded, eyes narrowed like glinting slits.  
  
"Let me go, Tezuka, you're hurting me," Fuji demanded, fingers half-heartedly trying to brush off Tezuka's painful grip on his shoulder.  
  
"What did you just say?"  
  
Fuji gave an almost irritated sigh.  
  
"I said if you don't want me, then I'll just--"  
  
Fuji's words were drowned by his own gasp when Tezuka yanked his arm hard enough for him to slam his own body against Tezuka's.  
  
"Don't fuck with me," Tezuka hissed in unbridled fury. "And no one else is touching you, Fuji, ever."  
  
A slight victorious smile slowly formed on Fuji's lower lip.  
  
"If you say, so... Buchou..."  


* * *

a/n: ^o^ I just love making Fuji the conniving seductive uke and Tezuka the reluctant possessive seme! SOOOOO YUMMY!!!! Well, anyway, it's probably obvious where this fic is going^^ and yup, some smut in the next chappy, I promise.

**Go to Chapters: 1 2 3  
**


	2. His Decision

A/n: wai minna! Thanks for all the reviews ^o^;; I'm really grateful that you guys are reading this fic^^  
  
So here, chappy 2 XD  
  
Disclaimer: *rolls eyes* yeah right, I own Fuji and I got him locked up in my closet... XD  


* * *

  
**Love Zone **  
By: anek   
  
Chapter 2: His Decision  
  
  
  
"Everyone! Thirty laps!" Tezuka bellowed across the court. A stream of complaints rose from the worn out members of Seigaku, but Tezuka didn't have a piece of sympathy to spare.  
  
"But buchou! We're SOOOOOO tired!" Eiji whined, huffing overdramatically as if to emphasize his point. Oishi nodded in agreement. After all, they had just spent the entire afternoon practicing for another Regional match.  
  
"Thirty laps," Tezuka repeated firmly in a tone that wouldn't take no for an answer.  
  
"Ne, Tezuka. Everyone's pretty worn-out... maybe we should take it easy just a bit..." Fuji suggested, casually leaning against the wire fence, hands on pockets.  
  
Tezuka frowned.  
  
"The match is in two days. There is no time--"  
  
"You need rest too, Tezuka," Fuji added as he reached up to brush off a stray leaf that landed on Tezuka's cap.  
  
Fuji almost laughed at the alarm that briefly fleeted on Tezuka's features. Tezuka was always concerned that he would show his affections openly. Of course, Fuji had known that their relationship was not something one should display openly, yet he never took the effort to reassure Tezuka that he understood... no, teasing Tezuka was so much fun after all.  
  
Tezuka cleared his throat.  
  
"Fine, fifteen laps."  
  
"Yatta!" an overjoyed Eiji bounced around the court, completely oblivious to the knowing glances of his teammates.  
  
"So he only listens to his wife," Ryoma muttered under his breath, but loud enough for everyone to hear.  
  
"Echizen! Thirty laps!" Tezuka growled.  
  
"Hai hai hai, buchou," Ryoma shrugged with a smirk.  
  
"Eh? But who's the wife, ochibi?" Eiji asked eagerly with genuine curiosity.  
  
It wasn't just Echizen, Tezuka thought angrily. He didn't miss the curious, sometimes suspicious, glances that came their way either... and Fuji was not helping the situation. In fact, he wouldn't be surprised if Fuji was enjoying his whole ordeal.  
  
"Everyone, thirty laps!!!" Tezuka snarled before anyone could make any other sly remarks, his deep voice echoing through the now emptied field for classes have long since ended.  
  
Tezuka heard Eiji giving a small yelp before scrambling to his feet and started running around the court. The others followed suit lesser enthusiasm, but exhaustion was starting to show on their faces.  
  
That's right, he had every intention of working the Seigaku members till they drop to the ground. After all, he is the captain who makes all the rules. Too bad... he's currently not in a good mood.  
  
Tezuka frowned slightly at his thoughts. He knew he was not acting fair at all... but he blamed all his frustrations on Fuji... after all... after that confrontation the other day...  
  
He ran a slightly shaking hand through his hair-- certainly a rare thing for him to do... but ever since that day, there was never another thought on his mind that didn't involve a certain smiling tensai.  
  
Tezuka was jolted from his thoughts when the Seigaku members ran past him. They had made it around the court already and he hadn't moved even an inch from where he stood before. Growling under his breath, Tezuka bent to pick up the racket that lay on his feet. He had probably dropped it at some point without knowing.  
  
It was then when he caught the familiar scent, a whiff of vanilla and sweat that Tezuka knew too well. He jerked his head up, just in time to see Fuji running past him, always wearing the usual unperturbed smile... but Tezuka didn't miss the slight smirk behind that smile.  
  
"Twenty-nine more laps to go," Fuji stated casually under his breath, but the afternoon wind seemed to have blown the words to where Tezuka stood unmoving.  
  
"Ah," Tezuka agreed without much thought, although he doubted if Fuji had heard him for the other boy had ran quite a few yards farther.  
  
The afternoon sun had begun settle and Tezuka thought briefly if he had been too harsh on his teammates... not to mention unreasonable in mixing his emotions with his duties as the Captain as well. On the tenth lap, he raised his hand for a halt, curtly explaining that they were done for the day.  
  
The court was deserted faster than he thought, what with Eiji dragging Oishi and whining something about afternoon snack; Inui and Kaidoh seeming to have plans for extra practice; Echizen walking away whistling to himself without a care... and the rest just going about their own way... until it was only him... and Fuji left-- the one person he least wanted to be alone with.  
  
Tezuka realized for the second time that he hadn't moved an inch from where he stood.  
  
"Hmm... I always knew you have some compassion in you too, Tezuka."  
  
"W-what are you talking about?" Tezuka snapped... almost disgusted with himself. He felt like a nervous schoolgirl about to confess her love for the school heartthrob. The image didn't bode well on Tezuka's thoughts so he hastily swung the racket on his shoulder and glared at the other boy.  
  
Which was a mistake, as he realized too late.  
  
Fuji stood gracefully, the remaining rays of the settling sun making his hair seemed glossier than it already was. The yellowish light making the sweat glow like gold on porcelain skin... an angel bathed in gold...  
  
"I was talking about how you let us off with just ten laps..." Fuji answered in barely a whisper.  
  
Tezuka didn't know how... but Fuji was there in front of him. Their bodies not touching... but close enough that Tezuka could feel Fuji's breath at the base of his throat.  
  
"I see..." he answered absently.  
  
He prided himself for being reasonable... composed... but all other thoughts fled, save for the desire to touch, the urge to engulf Fuji's mouth with his own... and claim this boy to himself.  
  
Tezuka raised a hand to touch Fuji's face, his thumb gently stroking the other's pale cheeks.  
  
"Tezuka..."  
  
It was all Tezuka needed... the sound of Fuji's soft voice calling out his name ignited his desire until he thought he would burst with longing.  
  
His fingers threaded though Fuji's soft hair, grasping the other boy's head to tilt it back. He captured Fuji's lips in a fierce kiss searing with need and want.  
  
Tezuka knew he was hurting Fuji, his embrace tight enough to break someone that had been more fragile, his kiss harsh enough that he could feel the other boy's lips starting to get swollen... but Tezuka's reason had fled... replaced with a wanton passion far too long suppressed. Fuji didn't make a single sound of protest.  
  
Perhaps it was him who had lowered Fuji to the ground... or perhaps it was Fuji who had pulled him down... but neither of them cared. He trailed kisses down Fuji's throat; tasting the salty sweat he had been keenly admiring just a few moments back.  
  
Tezuka kneaded his knee between Fuji's thighs, earning him a surprised gasp of pleasure.  
  
"You want me?"  
  
Tezuka froze.  
  
It wasn't a question... but a statement of the obvious.  
  
Tezuka gritted his teeth. The right thing to do would be to pull back... back to reality where such sinful pleasure shouldn't exist... but the sight of Fuji under him, quivering with untamed want that rivaled his own... lips slightly swollen from the hungry kisses they shared... sensitive skin that called for his touch...  
  
"Dammit Fuji... I want you... so much," Tezuka hissed, bending down to claim Fuji's lips once again...  
  
"Who's there?"  
  
It was like icy water being thrown to doze off his burning desire. Tezuka felt like his heart had stopped beating for good. It was almost completely dark but Tezuka could hear approaching steps of the school guard.  
  
Tezuka moved just in time before the school guard's flashlight could catch them in a more than compromising position.  
  
He scrambled and sat against the pole that held the net on the middle of the court. His breathing ragged, his face so pale that it almost made a stark contrast in the dark after-dusk.  
  
His senses were all reeling, yet he didn't know half of what was going on. Somehow, Fuji had gotten to his feet and was talking calmly to the guard, saying something about practicing some new techniques. The guard smiled politely after excusing himself, completely unaware of the heavy tension that hung in the air.  
  
"Tezuka..." Fuji began when the guard was out of their sight. He took a step forward, but stopped when Tezuka suddenly stood, not a trace left of the confused boy that he was just a moment ago.  
  
The Captain of Seigaku was back on his feet.  
  
"It's a good thing someone came," Tezuka declared after calmly smoothing out his crumpled jersey.  
  
When Fuji stayed silent, Tezuka proceeded to pick up his duffel bag that he had left on the coach's bench.  
  
"If we don't stop, it will always be like this Fuji. We would be forced to hide, and eventually, we'll get tired. We would only end up hurting and regretting."  
  
"I see... you have a reputation to uphold, ne?"  
  
Fuji was smiling, but Tezuka could almost feel the slight bitterness in Fuji's voice.  
  
"Ah... so do you."  
  
Tezuka heard Fuji sigh.  
  
"I guess it can't be helped. We can still be friends, ne Buchou?"  
  
Friends...  
  
It was like a stake driven to his heart. Somehow... he had expected Fuji to protest... perhaps he wanted Fuji to protest.  
  
Of course, friends, that was what he wanted... wasn't it? Yet... why did he feel so... empty...  
  
Tezuka nodded quietly, not sure if Fuji could see him do so, dark as it was.  
  
Once again, Tezuka stood rooted on the spot. He watched as Fuji gather his own duffel bag and start walking away. He stared at the other boy's receding back... hearing each of Fuji's departing footsteps.  
  
His mind wandered back a few days ago when they had a confrontation in the washroom. The memory always brought him a slight tinge of embarrassment, a reminder of the fact that Fuji could so easily wrap him around those graceful fingers. He had told Fuji that it would never work between them... yet Fuji would always smile and end up winning each and every argument they've had.  
  
But this time... it was different.  
  
Fuji was walking away from him... and this time... Tezuka knew Fuji wasn't turning back...  
  
And that's what he had always wanted...  
  
...wasn't it?  
  


* * *

  
a/n: Please review ^^

**Go to Chapters: 1 2 3  
**


	3. His Game

A/N: eh heh, I know I haven't updated in a while ^^;; so sorry ^o^  
  
Anyway, here's chapter 3 XD more Tezu x Fuji... um... stuff ^^;;   
  
  
Disclaimer: Don't own PoT. I'm poor.  
  


* * *

**Love Zone **  
By: anek  
  
Chapter 3: His Game  
  
  


  
His gaze flitted for a brief second over the exposed flesh. Even with such a quick glance, he noted how tiny droplets of sweat trailed down the smooth torso, sliding down the lean abdomen and finally soaking the waistband of the dark shorts.  
  
He glanced at his wrist watch. Thirty more minutes and their allotted practice time should be over. He'll last, and no, he won't look again. He crossed his arms, parting his feet apart as he took the stance worthy of the respected Captain he was.  
  
He tore his gaze off of Fuji's back. He knew Fuji's game, and to lose was out of question, else they'd just fall back to where they started -- Fuji taunting him, inflaming his desire until he was left shamelessly slave to his hormones.  
  
"Buchou!"  
  
There was a shout across the court. He turned just in time to dodge a flying tennis ball from smashing on his face. The ball gave a small screech as it got caught between the tall fence, the wires vibrating in the sheer force of the impact.  
  
Of course, Kawamura's swing is never to be underestimated.  
  
"Buchou! Gomen-nasai!"  
  
He shook his head, slightly raising one eyebrow at an approaching and flustered Kawamura wringing his hands rather desperately. The guy must have dropped his racket after hitting that ball since there wasn't a trace of the "burning" energy he had just seconds before..  
  
"I didn't mean to, Buchou! Sorry! I almost hit you!"  
  
"That's alright Taka-san, don't worry about it. Although it's a bit unusual for you to be hitting a ball 50 yards off the court," he added with a slight note of disapproval.  
  
Kawamura flushed.  
  
"Ah... y-yeah. Gomen."  
  
Tezuka reached a hand to adjust the spectacles at the bridge of his nose. He stiffened at the sound of approaching light footsteps, and an all too familiar scent.  
  
Fuji.  
  
He casually cocked his head to the side, meeting Fuji's gaze with as much indifference as he could muster. Not that it was an easy task, for it took all his sanity not to notice how Fuji was gloriously shirtless. Of all things.  
  
"What is it, Fuji?" he asked, uncrossing his arms and shoving them on the pockets of his jersey. Perhaps a futile attempt to look unperturbed.  
  
Fuji's smile was sweet as usual, though if he didn't know better, that seemingly innocent smile hid such poison that once stung, there is never an antidote. Take it from a fellow victim.  
  
"Nothing, I just need to retrieve something," was the quick reply.  
  
Tezuka nodded, although it didn't take a few seconds for his heart to skip a few beats. Fuji kept moving forward until they were only but a few feet away. And Fuji was still closing the space.  
  
He could feel his palms moistening a bit. If he were to step back, he wasn't sure if his self-esteem could take it. Not once before did he run away from any challenge, well, at least those that didn't involve Fuji. Though if he were to remain rooted at where he stood...  
  
"Fuji..." he hissed between gritted teeth, narrowing his eyes in an unmistakable warning.  
  
But he was only rewarded with a fleeting grin that crossed Fuji's pale lips.  
  
"Is something wrong? Tezuka?" Fuji's voice was soft, yet only he could fathom the venom that hid behind that gentle lilt.  
  
He knew Kawamura was curiously watching them. In the middle of afternoon practice, the distant sound of balls bouncing against rackets faded against his frantic heartbeats. Fuji finally stopped a few inches away, making him almost give a loud sigh of relief though the closeness was almost just as bad. The strange mix of sweat and expensive perfume that Fuji always wore, not to mention the smooth bare skin that glistened with sweat. With the very small distance that separated them, he could see faint traces of sunburn marring the creamy skin, probably from staying under the sun for too long. Fuji must be very sensitive of the sunlight... though Fuji has always been sensitive in many other ways as well...  
  
The thought only brought unwelcome memories that almost made him loosen the collar of his jersey, though he did not dare, let he make himself look more disconcerted than he already was.  
  
"What is it?" he repeated, averting his eyes and pretending to observe a group of freshmen practicing their swings.  
  
"Chotto..." was Fuji's brief reply, extending out one arm so that one elbow brushed the sleeve of his blue jersey.  
  
"Wha-what are you doing!" he hissed under his breath. His only consolation was that everyone else seemed to be too busy at the moment to take notice of them, maybe save for Kawamura who stood a few feet away, curiously watching them with a confused face.  
  
Tezuka stiffened. He could feel a cold droplet of sweat trailing down the side of his neck and down his back. His hands clenched into tight fists inside the pockets of his blue jersey. His breath almost stopped when Fuji kept leaning closer, but just when he thought only the fabric of his jersey separated their skins, Fuji leaned away, smiling with such nonchalance and casually holding a yellow tennis ball in one hand, it was the ball that was stuck in the fence behind him.  
  
He should have known.  
  
"This is my favorite ball," Fuji declared, casually inspecting the little furry thing with genuine curiosity.  
  
"The balls are all the same, Fuji," he snapped, silently gritting his teeth. Not that it was anything new. Fuji enjoyed taunting him, making a mockery out of him, provoking him until he felt trapped, helpless and wanting. He had thought everything had been over back then, that night when Fuji walked away from him. He had drowned himself in self-inflected angst, admitted regret against his will... only to find the next day, that nothing had changed at all.  
  
Fuji frowned slightly, turning on his back to hold the ball against the afternoon sun.  
  
"Hmm... you think so Tezuka? This ball seemed prettier than the others."  
  
Tezuka gave his head a slight shake. For such a pointless conversation, there sure was a lot of tension involved, at least on his part.  
  
"Anou... Fuji... the practice..." Kawamura inquired reluctantly.  
  
Fuji tossed the ball in the air, catching it with his racket before it could fall back to the ground.  
  
"Gomen Taka-san, let's go," Fuji apologized politely, turning to head back across the court where they were practicing before.  
  
"A-ah," Kawamura murmured in a small voice.  
  
Tezuka didn't mistake the reddish hint that stained Kawamura's cheeks, then he knew the reason behind the usually timid Seigaku regular's faulty racket swing earlier, and the thought didn't settle well on Tezuka in more ways than one.  
  
His eyes darted back to Fuji's receding back, the dark shorts riding low enough to reveal slightly protruding hipbones... and a good deal of porcelain skin. The rhythmic sound of ball which Fuji kept on bouncing against his tennis racket slowly faded as Fuji walked away. Tezuka cursed mentally when Kawamura glanced at Fuji's back with a confused expression, before finally turning on his heels to meekly trail behind Fuji.  
  
Tezuka growled under his breath. It wasn't that he blamed Kawamura, though he couldn't help but feel irritated at the glances that the fellow regular kept sending on Fuji's way. Fuji... while on the outside is the charming, soft-spoken tennis tensai, inside is a perfect male version of an impish nymph freely casting deadly spells on his wake.  
  
"Fuji, put your shirt back on," he called out in a stern voice that clearly didn't take no for an answer.  
  
Fuji stopped on his tracks, caught the ball in his palm and swung the racket over one shoulder blade.  
  
"Eh? Hmm... my shirt is not exactly available for wear right now."  
  
Tezuka frowned.  
  
"Why is that?"  
  
Fuji shrugged, slightly cocking his head to the side to indicate the pair of Seigaku regulars on the far east side of the court. Tezuka squinted his eyes to recognize Oishi and Eiji, or more accurately, Oishi fussing over a bawling Eiji, one hand pressed against his stomach while the other pressing a cloth, presumably Fuji's shirt, against his mouth.  
  
"Eiji mistook Inui's juice for soda. He happened to hurl on my shirt so I gave it to him. Hm, it seems that he has developed an affinity to it."  
  
Tezuka's brows gave a slight twitch. Only Fuji could say something like that while watching someone else empty his gut out on his shirt.  
  
Regaining his composure, Tezuka turned to Takashi.  
  
"Taka-san, please help them get to the infirmary, and Fuji, go to the locker room. I have an extra shirt there."  
  
Kawamura mumbled a quick "Hai Buchou" before darting off across the court to help cart off a now wailing Eiji.  
  
When Kawamura was out of hearing, Fuji walked back to where Tezuka stood.  
  
"Thanks Tezuka, but I'm alright. We should be going home in a few minutes anyway. I still have my uniform."  
  
Tezuka narrowed his eyes.  
  
"Go put on my shirt," he repeated, crossing his arms again as if to emphasize that it was, indeed, an order.  
  
Fuji only smiled.  
  
"If you say so... Buchou," Fuji replied casually, turning on his heels again to head back to the locker room, but before reaching the court exit, Fuji glanced back.  
  
"Ah, Tezuka, come to my house tomorrow at three," Fuji added before continuing on his way, leaving nothing but a stunned Tezuka and the distant familiar noises of bouncing tennis balls.  
  


  
  
He had been to Fuji's house on several occasions before, though there was never a personal visit. None that didn't involve either school, or tennis.  
  
He stood before the medium-sized gate. There was nothing new about the place... a quiet neighborhood, a garage, the small potted plants that lined the inner side of the wall, he even noted the tea-colored front door that sported a small elaborate design in the middle.  
  
He glanced at his wrist watch.   
  
Two o'clock.  
  
He was way too early, though the ever condescending small part of him reasoned that he was there for no other purpose than to simply inquire of what Fuji invited him for, thus there was no reason to stick to the allotted time. Fuji simply didn't give him a chance to ask, let alone decline yesterday. He had hoped he would catch Fuji in the locker room after practice, but all he found was a small note that said "Thanks" on top of the extra shirt he offered, which was left untouched.  
  
The gate was open, wide enough to let him pass. He slipped past and stood in front of the door. His finger hesitated for a brief second before finally pressing the doorbell.  
  
There was no answer. He pressed it again twice, but there wasn't even any sign of commotion inside. Tezuka adjusted the rim of his glasses, mentally berating himself for letting his pride take precedence over what made sense. Perhaps there wasn't anyone home until three, after all, three o'clock was the agreed time... or rather, the instructed time, he thought bitterly.  
  
He turned to leave, deciding to come back at four, his pride still refusing to come at three. A small crease appeared between his brows. He knew he was acting too shamefully childish, yet he was never used to being ordered... and Fuji had done much more than ordering him around. Fuji... the only person who could freely reduce him to such pitiful state of helplessness and need... and it didn't please him one bit.  
  
Just when he was about to take his leave, the door was flung open, revealing a smiling Fuji... or in more detail, a smiling wet Fuji scantily clad with a small towel.  
  
Tezuka almost took a step back.  
  
"W-what the --!" he started, but after the initial surprise that briefly fleeted across Fuji's eyes, the smile was back in place.  
  
"Ah, Tezuka. You're early, come in," Fuji beamed, ushering a rather stunned Tezuka inside and into the sofa. "Gomen Tezuka. I thought you weren't coming until three so I took a shower," Fuji continued.  
  
Tezuka cleared his throat. The sight of a fully-clothed Fuji was enough to send his senses soaring to inconceivable heights, never mind what an almost naked Fuji could do to his sanity. He ran a hand through his hair, a rare gesture that usually indicated he wasn't in the best of moods.  
  
"So, why did you--" he began, intending to ask what it was that Fuji invited him over for. But before he could finish his question, Fuji interrupted.  
  
"I'll fix you some tea, I'll be right back."  
  
Tezuka shook his head.  
  
"No, I'm fine. Just get... dressed," he muttered, though he doubted if Fuji had an ounce of sympathy for his concerns for the only reply he got were the clanging sounds of silverware in the kitchen.  
  
He sat in the sofa, silent and resigned. Pulling out a magazine under the center table, he noticed how there were tracks of Fuji's wet footsteps on the marble floor. Somehow, it calmed his nerves. He was foolish to overreact on something that was truly a simple coincidence, and the mistake was on his part for not adhering to schedule in the first place.  
  
He flipped aimlessly through the magazine. It was a monthly publication about tennis, but for once, the subject didn't interest him as much as it usually did.  
  
In a moment he heard the slight creaking of the kitchen door, and Fuji's soft approaching barefooted steps. His back was to the kitchen so he waited for Fuji to speak, but when none came he shifted on his seat to glance behind him.  
  
Fuji stood behind the sofa where he sat.  
  
"What are you doing in there?" he asked when Fuji still didn't move.  
  
"My towel slipped off and I'm unable to help myself at the moment," Fuji answered, indicating the small tray on one hand and a small plate of cookies on the other... none of which interested Tezuka as much as what Fuji's words meant.  
  
Although the back of the sofa was quite high, what it revealed was enough to make his blood run hotter than liquid fire. Prominent hipbones, soft curves giving it a slightly feminine edge yet toned and lean enough to make it inarguably a male's body... and the expanse of pale skin that simply begged for his touch...  
  
With every ounce of will he summoned the last remnants of his sanity that remained, averting his eyes back at magazine he still held, and stared at the blurred letters too intensely until he thought his eyeballs hurt.  
  
Fuji...   
  
He ran a hand through his hair.   
  
"Tezuka? Could you please take this tray? I really need to put some clothes on..."  
  
"Put them on the damn floor!" he growled. It angered him how Fuji's voice held no trace of quivering, no sign of the despair he felt.  
  
"There's a cat on the floor," Fuji pointed out. And as if to confirm the point, there was a soft feline purr that followed.  
  
Tezuka slammed the magazine on the center table. How far did Fuji intend to push him? And how far did he intend to be pushed? It was cruel, taunting his desires, daring him to admit defeat and giving in to the one thing they both needed the most. For his hands that knew how Fuji's skin felt, and for his lips that once knew how Fuji's lips tasted... it was beyond tempting. His eyes narrowed into slits.   
  
He caught Fuji by the shoulder blades. The cat let out a loud purr when the contents of the tray went clattering on the floor as he pulled Fuji over the sofa. The warm tea sipped through the velvet covers, soaking his shirt and dripping to the marble floor. The plate of cookies fell to the floor along with his glasses, although frankly, he didn't care. He was a predator far too long deprived, a desire far too long suppressed, and a beast far too long taunted and provoked.   
  
His desire escalated tenfold when he realized the only thing that separated them was the thin fabric of his clothes. He took Fuji's mouth in a ravaging kiss, one hand threading through Fuji's hair and pulling them back to give him more access as he let his tongue explore the inner recesses of Fuji's mouth. He let his other hand ran through Fuji's back, the calloused skin of his palm from holding a tennis racket for too long making faint traces of bruises on the creamy pale skin.  
  
He sank deeper into the sofa so that his head leaned against the armrest, Fuji's supple body spread over him in such erotic sense, one leg flung over the side and into the floor, the other caught between his slightly raised knees. He groaned, unconsciously kneading Fuji's lower body against the rough fabric of his trousers, rewarding him with Fuji's throaty moan, until even he wasn't sure if the soft purring that filled the room came from the cat or were his own.  
  
Fuji had tempted him beyond his limits, but it was his lust that made a mockery out of his will, until he was left with nothing but a yearning too intense that it was almost blinding...  
  
And reason fled.  
  
  


* * *

a/n: Sorry, I know I took so long to update and now, I'm leaving you with a cliffhanger ^^; gomen. I don't really have much of a plot here so this fic is probably going to end soon, but don't worry, I promise I won't end this fic until Tezuka and Fuji get some serious lovey-dovey stuff done ^.~

**Go to Chapters: 1 2 3  
**


	4. His Win

A/n: @_@ it took me SOOOO long to update this fic ^^; sorry.

* * *

**Love Zone**

Chapter 4: His Win

He found it hard to breath. Not just breathing… but he found it hard to move as well. His eyes seemed to have been glued to Fuji's. Even his hands refused to budge from their tight grip on Fuji's bare shoulders.

A few strands of his own hair obstructed his sight as he loomed over the smaller boy. A cold droplet of sweat threatened to fall from his nose while he opened his mouth in response to his almost desperate need for air.

The silence was almost as unbearable as the tightening on his chest. He continued to stare down. Somehow, during the course of a few minutes, their positions had been reversed yet he was not quite aware as to when and how. Everything had happened so quickly that his memory was almost a blur.

The loud noise came again, yet they remained frozen-- him straddling Fuji's lithe body while Fuji lay quietly, eyes half-lidded and mouth slightly parted… and just as dazed as he was.

It was on the third doorbell sound that they finally regained some shreds of their senses, but the sight of Fuji's bare body invitingly spread under him was so tempting that Tezuka almost lowered himself again to resume what they had started. Summoning the last ounce of his will, he finally cleared his throat.

Fuji seemed to have regained his composure as well, for the confused look was now replaced with a smile, although somewhat shaky.

"That must be them…"

Tezuka furrowed his brows briefly in a momentary confusion.

"Aa, _them_," Fuji repeated in a subdued voice, reminding Tezuka that he wasn't the only one displeased by the unwelcome disturbance.

The doorbell rang for the fourth time. He finally loosened his grip on Fuji's shoulders, noting the reddish mark it left on the creamy skin. He righted himself in the sofa, averting his gaze from the other boy let he foolishly succumb to desire again. He remained silent when Fuji bent to fetch the discarded towel on the floor.

He sat silently. He felt strangely spent and worn out, as if all his emotions suddenly were depleted after the overwhelming passion had been so abruptly doused. He leaned against the sofa, closing his eyes.

"Fuji! Put some clothes on!" it was Kikumaru's frantic voice that made Tezuka open his eyes again. He turned in time to see a slightly flushed Kikumaru dragging Fuji from the doorway where he had been greeting everyone scantily clad in nothing but a small towel around his waist. It hit him as well, that while he had been in daze, people had piled up in the room, every Seigaku regular including a couple of faces that he did not quite recognize.

"I was taking a shower…" Fuji answered, letting himself being ushered away by Eiji.

"What do you mean taking a shower? You told us to come at three! You should have taken a shower earlier nyah!"

Fuji smiled.

"Ah, that's because I was a bit… distracted," Fuji answered, giving Tezuka who still sat quietly on the sofa, a meaningful look before he and Eiji disappeared in the narrow hall.

Tezuka could only sit in the sofa and clench his fists, fully aware that the last look Fuji had sent his way, would bring everyone's unwanted attention towards him. And he knew very well that no satisfying explanation could be ever conjured to answer everyone's unspoken question.

On the marble floor, a broken teacup lay in shattered pieces while a plastic food tray lay a few feet away. A kitten purred as it busily munched on one of the scattered vanilla cookies between its paws. The smell of tea emanated from the soaked sofa covers. But most noticeable of all, dark tea stains were starkly visible on his own white polo shirt, the first three buttons, had been undone.

"I see, so we must have interrupted something."

It was Inui who finally voiced out everyone's thoughts, whose comments have roused varying reactions from everyone. Oishi immediately lunged at Inui, sweating heavily as he attempted to clamp a hand over Inui's mouth. Momo and Kaidoh flushed while Echizen calmly shove his hands on his pockets.

But Tezuka was sure, if he hadn't had a good deal of practice with his patience in dealing with Fuji, otherwise, he would have probably thrown the whole bunch outside the house.

He tightened his jaw, narrowing his eyes at everyone in an unmistakable threatening look. When he stood abruptly, they visibly flinched.

He felt his blood boil, the million emotions he felt at the moment spiraling into threatening heights until he felt as if he would burst. He was angry… at Fuji who mocked his self-control, at everyone who stood there gaping at him, and angry at himself for having been so foolishly weak.

Without a word, he strode to the hall where Fuji and Eiji had disappeared. Two doors faced each other, he turned to the one on the left. The doorknob wasn't locked, which was for the better, for Tezuka wasn't sure if he could have stopped himself from breaking the door had it been locked otherwise.

"Fuji!" he growled as soon as he pushed the door open with such effort that it reverberated on its hinges.

His narrowed eyes searched the room, noting how Eiji stood near the closet, ashen-faced and wide-eyed, one arm frozen in mid-air in the process of handing Fuji a cream-colored shirt, but was too surprised by Tezuka's outburst that he had forgotten what he was about to do.

"T-Tezuka!" Eiji finally managed. Giving Fuji, who sat silently on the bed, a nervous glance, he finally dropped the shirt and sprinted out of the door. "Waah, Fuji, I'm not involved! I'm not involved!"

Tezuka stepped aside in time to allow a bouncing Kikumaru through the door, and as soon as the other's quick footsteps faded through the hall, he turned his attention back to the one who was responsible for his outburst in the first place.

"Aa, Tezuka, did something happen?"

Tezuka could have growled again in frustration. Did something happen? He wasn't even sure what happened, but one thing he knew for sure, his emotions at the moment were too intense to comprehend. And it infuriated him more that Fuji could sit there quietly with a calm smile.

He finally closed the door firmly.

"Party? I don't remember you saying anything about a party," he gritted out, closing the gap between them until he stood only a few inches from the edge of the bed where Fuji sat.

"Hmm… oh that?" Fuji began, bending to fetch the shirt that Eiji had dropped on the floor and calmly putting it on. "My sister's birthday, she's coming home around 3:30."

"I don't remember you saying anything about a party," he repeated, sending the other boy a sharp look to remind him that his original question was yet to be answered.

Fuji smiled.

"But Tezuka is so anti-social, you'd never come if I told you the details."

With a renewed irritation, Tezuka lifted a hand to grab Fuji's arm, forceful enough so that the other had to take a step forward.

"That's not the point. Is this another one of your schemes Fuji?" he gritted out.

This time, Fuji's smile faded as he opened his eyes. Tezuka loosened his grip on Fuji's arm when he saw something on Fuji's expression that he hadn't expected—slight resentment.

"I don't know what you're so angry about, Tezuka. And whatever it was that possessed you to come an hour earlier, don't blame it on me," Fuji answered, meeting Tezuka's sharp gaze with his own.

Tezuka dropped his hand to his side with a sudden realization that he had been more confused than angry. If anyone was to blame, it was him-- for his own incapability or reigning his emotions when it came to Fuji… for wanting Fuji so much that he could willingly ignore everything else.

But Tezuka was spared from further thoughts when Fuji stepped closer until he could smell Fuji's freshly washed hair under his nose.

"Fuji…" the named seemed to have involuntarily escaped from his lips when Fuji brought his hands to hold the folds of his front shirt. Tezuka was reminded that the first three buttons of his shirt were still undone. He remained silent as if having lost the ability to speak which had become quite a habit of his every time Fuji got close. He held his breath when Fuji's nimble fingers slowly and expertly undid the remaining buttons.

He took a sharp intake of air when Fuji's fingers brushed the tense muscles just below his abdomen, and proceeded to unbuckle the leather belt that held his dark trousers to his lean hips. He remained frozen, his hold on his will slowly ebbing, and he was once again tempted to embrace Fuji and continue where they had left off.

Just when his reason was about to flee once again, tempted beyond limits to kiss the living daylights out of Fuji, the smaller boy took a step away.

"Tezuka… can you step forward please?"

Tezuka absently obliged, a vague feeling of having discarded something as he did so. He took a step closer to Fuji… and the bed that seemed to be emanating an invisible force pulling him closer.

"Ah, thank you Tezuka," Fuji continued, placing a quick kiss on Tezuka's mouth before bending to fetch something off the floor and walking towards the door.

Tezuka stood beside the bed. He felt… suddenly empty… and naked… and it wasn't until he regained his senses again that he realized that that was indeed the case, for save for his undergarments, his shirt and trousers had been discarded at some point. He turned just in time to see Fuji carrying a bundle of clothing (presumably his) walking out of the door.

"It was my fault that you spilled tea on your clothes Tezuka. I'll have it cleaned. It'll be ready in an hour."

Five seconds… before the circumstances finally hit him and he strode to the door in quick steps, but the soft click of the doorknob told him that he was a few seconds too late.

And unless he risked being seen in his underpants, he did not dare walk out of the door.

"FUJI!" he growled, loud enough that he was sure even the guests in the living room had heard him.

And all the answer he got was Fuji's fading humming and carefree footsteps outside the room.

It was thirty minutes later and he still hadn't tired of pacing around the room. And to think that for a second, he had thought Fuji had been as much of a victim as he was…

Tezuka slowly breathed in another attempt to calm his nerves. Self-control was something he had had practice all his life, and although time and again, it was proven that Fuji could so easily crumble what he thought was an invincible mask, he did not want to do anything rash and make a fool of himself much more than he already did.

His grandfather had always told him… that when in doubt, one needs to evaluate things according to priority. First, he needed his clothes, and for that, he had no choice but to wait. Walking down the street wrapped in a blanket was simply out of question. And besides their sizes being quite different, rummaging on Fuji's closet without permission for any clothing that he might be able to wear, was strictly against his principle as well.

He sat on the bed. So wait he should.

Second, he needed to think straight. Reason and even determination were useless against Fuji, that, more or less, had become a proven fact and it was high time for him to stop denying that. And so things considered, he was left with two choices—either wait calmly, or wait impatiently. Deciding that the former was the more sensible choice of the two, he laid himself on the bed, fixing his gaze on the ceiling.

The pillows smelled familiar… distinctly sensual… distinctly Fuji. He closed his eyes, letting the scent calm his senses. It was as if all of him had been attuned to everything that was Fuji… Fuji's body, Fuji's scent, Fuji's lips… every fiber of him remembered how those felt.

He finally closed his eyes, the faint familiar voices from the living room, and the clanking of silverware from the kitchen fading as he slowly nodded off to sleep.

A sharp sound woke him. When he was able to focus his vision, he saw Fuji squatting on the floor picking up a fork.

"Ah sorry, did I wake you up?" Fuji asked with a smile.

"What time is it?" he asked with a frown, the bed giving a soft creak as he pulled himself up to sit against the headboard.

"It's almost 5," Fuji replied after a quick glance at the small alarm clock on the bedside table. "You fell asleep. I thought you'd be hungry," Fuji continued, indicating the glass of orange juice and the slice of cheesecake on a small plate he carried on both hands. He laid them on the bedside table under the lamp. "I dropped the fork, sorry," he apologized, setting the said fork on the table as well.

Tezuka slightly shook his head.

"That's alright, thank you," he answered in a reflex, although realizing too late that just a couple of hours ago, he could have sworn he was about ready to explode in anger. It was beguiling to think that he could sit there calmly and even say words of thanks to Fuji. Maybe the nap really did him some good.

"You're not going to eat yet?" Fuji finally asked when he didn't move from where he sat.

"Fuji, why did you do that?" he finally asked.

"Hmm, did what?"

Tezuka didn't say another word. He knew very well that Fuji knew exactly what he meant.

After a long pause, Fuji finally let out a small laugh.

"Because Tezuka always runs away from me."

Tezuka froze. There was something about Fuji's laughter that made him want to instinctively reach out and hold Fuji against him.

He averted his gaze.

"I… I'm not running away."

"Anyway, the food will get cold Tezuka," Fuji's smile brightened, but Tezuka knew that there was something different about the smile, something forced… something unnatural. Suddenly, it almost seemed as if their roles had been reversed, that it was him who was doing the chasing and Fuji the one running.

"I'm not running away," he said again.

Fuji's smile faded, opening his eyes and sizing Tezuka up as if looking for any trace of truth in those words.

"You _are_ running away. What I say, you don't hear. What you feel, you don't acknowledge," Fuji began. "And what I offer, you won't even take."

"And just what do you offer?!" Tezuka suddenly blurted out.

He was taken aback by the intensity of his own words, with a sudden realization that he had just uttered the one question that had been the cause of all his emotional plagues so far. Just what did Fuji offer? Fuji liked teasing him, enjoyed taunting him… until he wasn't quite sure where they both stood in the unsteady balance of unstable emotions.

While to Fuji, it might have been a game, an amusing game where the winner was to take victory in the end, Tezuka was left to wonder if he even wanted to win or lose. What they've had so far had all been physical, a back and forth tug of war. But he had begun to fear that he wanted something more. He needed much more than physical promise Fuji offered. He demanded something else that was deeper than what Fuji flaunted in front of him… and so he withdrew, fearing that if he dared take even a tiny portion, his own greed would only make him want for more… until he would only be left empty and wanting in the end.

He somewhat appreciated the silence that followed, for he wasn't sure what to say next, until felt something warm against his forehead. Fuji had closed the gap between them and stood so close that Tezuka could feel the warmth of Fuji's chest.

It was a while before Fuji spoke again.

"All of it."

The sound of Fuji's heart beats loud on his ears, he remained still, his forehead pressed against Fuji's chest.

"Fuji…" he murmured caught off guard by the unusual sincerity in Fuji's voice.

"All of it… is yours to take."

"Fuji…" he said again, his hands came to rest at the back of Fuji's knees, giving them a slight nudge forward forcing Fuji to fall kneeling on the edge of the bed between his parted legs. "I'm demanding and possessive," Tezuka finally continued, a slight note of warning in his voice.

Fuji's answer was yet another smile, pressing his smaller body to Tezuka's bare chest.

Tezuka finally lost his resolve to resist, nor did he need to. If Fuji could give everything that he asked for, then that was all the reassurance that he needed. He turned sideways, the mattress shifting when he pushed Fuji's smaller body down. He lowered his head to tentatively kiss Fuji's lips, and when Fuji's mouth met his with equal ardor, he saw no reason to hold back and claimed the other's lips in full. He suddenly felt liberated, and it surprised him how all of his earlier worries were rest assured by only a few words Fuji spoke.

He brought a hand to slowly undo the buttons of Fuji's shirt… and it was then when they heard the knock on the door.

"Syusuke? Syusuke? Your friend's clothes are ready."

Tezuka paused, slowly narrowing his eyes.

"She knows I'm here?" he hissed.

Fuji smiled innocently.

"What are you talking about Tezuka? Of course every one knows you're here."

"Everyone?" he dared to ask, although he already feared the answer that was to come.

Fuji nodded enthusiastically, then those lips, still wet from their shared kisses, curved into a grateful smile.

"Ah, thank you 'neesan. Come in, the door's not locked," Fuji called out.

Never in his life did Tezuka know panic as he did then. He moved himself off Fuji just in time to hear the doorknob being turned and the lights flicked on, expecting a good-looking woman in her early twenties to enter carrying his clothes. And he was partly right; a beautiful woman with features quite similar to Fuji's did enter, carrying his clothes… but what he didn't expect was to catch a glimpse of his teammates hurriedly scurrying away just before the door was fully opened… although Oishi was apparently not quick enough.

His Vice Captain blinked, then turned pale.

"Ah! Te-Tezuka… we weren't eavesdropping! We were just worried since you were so angry a-and," Oishi began nervously, but was pulled to the side by an equally frantic Kikumaru.

"Oishi! Come on! I still want to live!"

When the two disappeared, Yumiko smiled, and handed Tezuka's freshly washed clothes to Fuji's outstretched hand.

"They're all waiting for you outside. Saa, come on, get dressed Tezuka," Fuji urged when the door closed again.

Tezuka could only sit in silence, his fists clenched to his sides. When he didn't answer, Fuji peered closer.

"Eh… Tezuka?"

Tezuka stayed quiet and still… for some reason, he suddenly felt too tired to move.

**END**

* * *

A/n: um... yeah, thanks for reading ^_^ 


End file.
